


I Can Fix That

by LegolasLovely



Category: Robin Hood (BBC 2006)
Genre: Aftermath of Torture, Angst, Blood and Injury, Comfort, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fanfiction, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Guy of Gisborne - Freeform, Hurt/Comfort, Injury, Love Confessions, Major Character Injury, Protectiveness, Reunions, Soft TM, Soft guy, Torture, Violence, protective guy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-15
Updated: 2019-09-15
Packaged: 2020-10-19 05:31:54
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,397
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20652002
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LegolasLovely/pseuds/LegolasLovely
Summary: Guy saves (Y/N) from being tortured by the sheriff and confesses his feelings to her. Will they end up together WHO KNOWS? (You know- all I write is fluff)





	I Can Fix That

**Author's Note:**

> {Warnings: Spoilers for season 3, violence!!- talk of beatings, burning, blood. It’s not too bad, but if this may trigger/upset you, stay away! Other warnings: angst for plot, but fluff and happy ending whooo!}

The clanging of metal spurs against the hard dungeon floors pricked at (Y/N)’s unconscious mind like a million small knives.

“Wakey, wakey, girl,” the dungeon master called to her in a sweet voice.

Though she tried, she just couldn’t pull herself out of the deep, black hole the master’s beatings had thrown her into. Her head rolled and she pulled at the restraints around her wrists above her, but she couldn’t remember how to open her eyes.

He struck her and she was sure her cheekbone had burst through her skin. She squinted and saw the ugly, grinning man standing before her in the low light. He was rubbing the sting from his knuckles. “Someone’s coming to see ya.”

The spur clad feet grew closer and she heard voices echoing softly through the corridors. “I have a surprise for you, Gisborne. Look.” The sheriff and Guy of Gisborne rounded a stone corner and stared at (Y/N) through the jail bars.

Guy’s eyes blew wide and he took a step toward her before the sheriff stuck out a hand to stop him. He took in her bloodied, bruised face and the sweat soaked tunic she was left in that revealed her figure to her visitors. “Why is she here? What has she done?” he asked.

“Absolutely nothing,” the sheriff said, giving a nod to the master who struck his innocent prisoner once again.

Fierce fury rose in Guy. “What are you doing? Stop!” he yelled.

“No one tells you how to handle your prisoners, Gisborne. Let the master do his job,” the sheriff said.

The master turned and hobbled to the stove in the corner of the cell and took a branding iron from the fire. He swept it across (Y/N)’s chest and held the red hot metal inches from her face. She cowered against her raised arms and screamed. “Please! Have mercy, sheriff, please! I’ve done nothing wrong.” Her cries turned into chest shattering sobs. “Please, help me. I didn’t do anything.”

“Sheriff, please,” Guy said, only for the sheriff to hear.

The sheriff sighed. “Oh, fine. Gisborne, you take the fun out of everything. Don’t burn her,” he told the master. “At least not her face.”

The iron dropped from her face, but before she could release her held breath it burned the skin over her hip. Her throat seemed to tear from her screams and Guy couldn’t bear it any longer. He tore the bars open and threw the master on the ground.

“Yes, Gisborne, save your damsel. Next time you fail me, she won’t be alive to save.”

Guy was grateful (Y/N) didn’t seem to hear the sheriff’s words. She was left limp and barely cognizant from the toll the extreme pain took on her body. He unlocked the chains around her wrists and caught her before she could fall to her knees. She whimpered in pain and fear while he carried her past the sheriff and out of the dungeons. “You’re safe now, (Y/N). I’m so sorry,” he chanted.

He held her close, even after setting her on his bed. Her tears had formed clean lines in the dried blood on her face and her ribs hadn’t stopped heaving from her sobs. He knew her wounds had to be cleaned and he rose from her side to find dressings and cleaning cloths, but she wouldn’t allow it. Even in her weakened state, she yanked on his clothes. “Don’t leave, please.”

He blinked wildly. “I-I’ll be right back.”

She shook her head and more tears fell from her tightly closed eyes. He realized she was still morbidly terrified. “You’re safe here, (Y/N).”

“No, I’m not,” she whispered. “I’m not safe anywhere anymore. I didn’t do anything,” she cried.

He shushed her and stroked her hair until she calmed. Eventually, exhaustion took over and she fell into a light, fearful sleep.

Guy cursed himself as he cleaned and dressed her wounds. His mind whirred, thinking of what the dungeon master did to her and wondering how long she was kept in that cell. His stomach flipped with guilt and rage. He would kill that disgusting torturer and he wanted to make the sheriff pay.

He made to leave her to sleep, but she grasped at him again, whispering, “Please don’t leave me alone.”

His mind was torn apart. He knew he should leave her and sleep in the other room. His feelings for her only put her in more danger. But he saw such innocent fear in her face that he chose to stay. He sat on the bed and inhaled sharply when she glued herself to him, pulling his tunic into her fists and burying her face into his shoulder. “You’re safe,” he said.

When she woke, she was alone. She felt robbed of any rest she might have had by nightmares and memories of the days before. She forced her eyes open, because every time she closed them she saw the dungeon master’s wicked face smiling at her.

She pulled herself up, gasping at the sharp pain in her ribs and arms. A clean tunic and pair of trousers were laid on the foot of the bed and bread and cheese sat on a nearby table. Nervous panic rushed through her until she remembered where she was. She thought of Guy and how her fear had made a fool of her the night before.

She shook her head, dreading the thought of facing him again. She was thankful for the change of clothing, her slip was stiff with dried sweat, blood, and terror. She found a mirror in the corner of the room and pulled the waist of the trousers down to see where she had been branded. She pulled the bandages away and winced. Her entire body ached, but this hurt the most. Not only had she been burned, her skin was marked like an animal. She pushed away tears of fury and mortification when she heard the door open behind her.

She whirled around and only partly relaxed when she recognized Guy. His gaze immediately fell to her hand covering the burn with her tunic. “Let me look at it,” he said.

“No,” she said, turning from him.

He sighed. She’s back to her old self, he thought. “I’ve already seen it, I dressed it last night.”

“You’ve already seen it, you don’t need to see it again.”

“(Y/N), I’m trying to help you.”

After a moment’s hesitation, she turned and showed him, refusing to look at him.

“It’s healing,” he said, reaching a finger for her skin.

She pulled away, hissing. “Don’t touch it, it hurts.”

He set a bowl of bandages on the ground and knelt before her. “If you leave it uncovered, it will fester.” She watched him with distrust, but her solid countenance softened at his tender touch. He secured the bandage and replaced her tunic and trousers to their rightful place before standing to tower over her. “Did you eat?”

She dropped her eyes to the plate of untouched food and heard him sigh. He forced a crust of bread into her hands. He eyed her until she took a bite and then told her to sit on the bed. He brought a chair next to her and showed her a glass jar of oily, white goop. “This will stop any scarring.”

Her nose scrunched. “It smells awful.”

He smirked and dipped a finger into the ointment. He gazed at her for a moment before reaching to her brow and smothering the thick cut there. She winced, but allowed him to continue.

“Why did they do this to me?” She waited for his answer but he was intent on administering the medication, and gave none. He moved on to the gash over her cheekbone. “I didn’t do anything wrong. No one would tell me anything.” She shook her head and looked to the floor. “Of course you won’t answer my questions either,” she spat.

He took her chin and made her look at him. “I will answer your questions.” For the first time that morning, his voice was no longer gentle. He sighed and placed a finger to the split in her lip. “They took you to punish me. I couldn’t kill Robin Hood and the sheriff doesn’t take kindly to failure.”

“Why would they take me? How did the guards even know me? I’m just a seamstress from Locksley, I’ve never even been to Nottingham before they took me.”

Guy stood and added the jar to the bowl of medical supplies. He crossed the room and pressed one shoulder to the wall, leaning with his arms laid over his chest. “Do you remember the first day I came to Locksley?”

“You came to collect taxes. And when my family didn’t have enough money, you tried to take our horse.”

“And you spat on my boots.” He watched her try to hide her amused and prideful grin. “Then, you rode it, bareback and no bridle, off into the woods and I could hear you laughing at me halfway through Sherwood Forest.”

She laughed. “I loved that horse. I couldn’t let you just take him.”

He hummed. “You disobeyed your superior that day.”

She rolled her eyes and stood. 

“Don’t you ever wonder why I always come to you when I need something mended? Why I ride all that way out to Locksley?”

She shrugged. “You have weapons thrown at you every day, it’s no surprise your clothing gets ripped.”

He stood before her now. “There is a tailor from France in this castle at all times.” When she gave no answer, he continued. “I can’t tell you how many times I’ve purposefully torn my cloak just so I could ride out to see the defiant seamstress in Locksley.”

For possibly the first time in her life, (Y/N) was speechless. Any other day, had he towered over her as he did now, she would have stood strong and bold below him. But now, she needed the support of his arm under her fingers to fight her shock. Her brows lifted as she felt his muscle tense under her touch. Her gaze rose to see his softened eyes and a rare smile directed at her.

“(Y/N), you’ve had my heart from the moment you laughed over your shoulder at me that day.” He backed away from her and furrowed his brow. “That is why they tortured you. Because of my feelings for you.”

“That’s why? That’s why they locked me in a cell for- I don’t even know how long? I was beaten, burned, and starved for days just to- just because you, you-” Understanding came crashing down on her and she sat on the bed again, shaking her head with closed eyes. She felt Guy gripping her hands and looked up to see him kneeling before her.

“Yes. It’s my fault, it’s because of me. I’m so sorry, (Y/N).” His usual strong, deep voice sounded utterly broken and he couldn’t lift his eyes from her hands.

“None of this is your fault. It’s the sheriff. How do you work for that monster?” Guy gave no answer. She leaned forward and used a gentle finger to lift his face to look at her. “None of this is your fault. I don’t blame you.”

His features darkened. He shook his head and stood, walking to the other side of the room. “You should! I am the reason you’re no longer safe in your home.” Then he rushed back to her and dragged her to the door.” I’ll bring you back, I’ll make sure they won’t hurt you or your family. I’ll never see you again. I’ll convince them they were wrong.”

“Guy-”

“I refuse to be the reason you’re not safe!” he yelled, clutching her arms.

This was the Guy she knew. Sir Guy of Gisborne—loud, brash, and unrelenting. The tender, almost sweet man from the morning was gone and replaced by the power hungry man whose mind was made up whether she liked it or not. He stared at her with a clenched jaw and heavy, erratic breathing and she wondered what it would take to bring the gentle version back.

“So, because you work for the sheriff, you can never be happy?”

He gave no answer at first. Then, he pulled her out into the corridors of the castle and held her waist tight as he flew down the halls. “I will be happy when you’re safe.”

She could barely keep up with his pace. She huffed. “And you think you’ll be able to do that now? Keep me safe? I was in that cell for days and you didn’t know until the sheriff delivered you there. He’ll kill me next time, I heard him say it.”

“That won’t happen.” Once outside, he barked orders to one of the guards to bring his horse.

“Where are we going?”

“I’m bringing you home.” He lifted her to sit in the saddle, then used to stirrup to hoist himself up and rest behind her. He held her hips when she was jostled by the horse’s discontented buck.

“B-back to Locksley? But-”

“My mind is made up.”

She was silent as they rode back. It was a relief when they trotted through the gates and into the open fields where there were no more eyes to stare at her or mouths to spread gossip about what she was doing on Sir Guy’s horse with Sir Guy’s arms around her.

Her gaze fell to where his hands sat in front of her, holding the reins with a tight grip. She stared, waiting for some type of movement or fidget, but it didn’t come. She guessed she had seen the last of his outburst in the castle. His breath blew softly over her shoulder and she reached up to slide her loose hair behind her ear, sneaking a glance to him. His eyes were already on her. When she turned forward, she gasped.

“What is it?” he asked.

“Nothing. The belt of the trousers scratched the-the burn.”

The horse stopped abruptly. “Does it need to be dressed again? We’ll stop-”

“No, it’s fine.” He watched her lift her tunic—his tunic that she was wearing—and lower the band of the trousers. His dressing job from the morning was still holding up. “Besides, aren’t you in a rush to get rid of me?” Her harsh tone cut through him.

“Of course I’m not.”

“Oh. I wouldn’t know from the way you pushed me through the castle like you were ashamed of me.”

“I’m not,” he paused, lowering his voice. “I am not ashamed of you. After everything I’ve told you, you should know that.”

She hummed, unimpressed. Anger flooded her chest and choked her neck. She was irritated with the situation, having to rush home and hide from that damned, evil sheriff. She couldn’t know if she or her family would ever be safe again. But she was mostly frustrated with Guy. He thought he was strong enough to protect her but he wasn’t even strong enough to leave a sheriff who didn’t respect him and put him in danger every day. She wanted him to be happy, safe from Nottingham’s grips on him. She wanted to see more of the sweet man she had caught a glimpse of. She wanted to know him.

Ahead, she could see the village of Locksley. “We could leave,” she said.

“What?”

“I mean, I could leave. Go somewhere the sheriff and his men couldn’t find me, where I’d be safe. And you could leave. You could be a lord somewhere far away, have your own house, your own land, your own—family. Somewhere else.”

“I said I’ve made up my mind.”

“I heard you, but-”

“(Y/N). It wouldn’t work. It wouldn’t work for either of us. I’m not meant to have that sort of life and I won’t bring you further into my… my hell.”

The horse stopped at the edge of the village. When he slid to the ground, she shivered as the cold air hit her back. He helped her out of the saddle, setting her down gently. He brushed a finger behind her ear, pushing her hair out of her face. He took in the cuts and bruising on her skin.

“I don’t know how to apologize for the pain I’ve caused you.” He sighed, looking to the ground. “I will never come here again, never see you again and you will be safe. I promise you that.” He leaned to her and placed a lingering kiss on her forehead. Then he left her and she watched as her fingers slid from his chest. He mounted his horse and galloped away.

(Y/N) walked through the gates to her home, hugged her little brother, and explained about the cart accident in Sherwood Forest that had injured her so badly. She had been well taken care of but was glad to be back. She returned to her seamstress work and mended many cloaks, but none of them looked familiar.

Time passed, crops were sewn and harvested, and clothes were made and mended by her hand. She often brought her work to the edge of the village that faced Nottingham. She would sit on the rickety fence and listen to travelers’ talk of the castle, the rich sheriff, and his tall, dark, right hand man. “That Gisborne, ‘e’s pure evil. Takes all the money for ‘imself. Never comes ‘ere no more, thank ‘eaven for that.” She bit her tongue. She knew it wasn’t all true.

She even sat there when the weather was growing colder. A chilly wind blew through her hair as she knitted a shawl for herself for the coming months. She had almost finished when her brother ran up to her.

“Pa says to come in. Says it’s too cold out here.” He leaned his elbows on the fence next to her and giggled when the old wood creaked.

“Stop that. I’m almost done,” she said.

“Did ya hear about all that’s going on? With Robin Hood?”

“I don’t pay attention to that gossip, you know that.”

“S’not gossip! It’s true, the sheriff’s been killed. Long since that, but now his right hand man, that Gissyorn-”

She dropped her needles in her lap. “Gisborne. Go on.”

“Gisborne. He used to work for the sheriff.”

“I know that.”

“Well, now he’s working with Robin Hood. Got rid of the new sheriff. She was a woman. Can you believe that? A woman sheriff. I guess she was bonkers. There was a battle and half of Nottingham died.”

Her chest tightened. “Guy? G-Gisborne? Did he die?”

“Don’t think so. I heard that Robin Hood asked him to join his band, but I doubt he’ll do that. What do you think he’ll do?”

Just then, (Y/N) heard her father’s voice calling them both inside. She watched her brother go, but she folded up her finished shawl with a smile. “I have an idea.” She hopped off the fence and turned toward her home, but stopped when she heard her name being called across the field.

Galloping through the tall grass was Guy. His dark hair had grown long and his black tunic flapped in the wind. He seemed gaunt and thin since the last time she’d seen him, but no less handsome. As he neared her, she saw something she’d never seen from him. A wide smile, showing his neat, white teeth.

He leaped off the horse, almost stumbling in his rush to get to her. He landed before her, but did nothing else—didn’t touch her, didn’t say anything, gave her nothing.

She shook her head in awe. “I hear you’re a hero now.”

“Is that what they’re saying?”

She hummed, fixated on him. “So, does that mean…”

He gulped down his heavy breath and smoothed her hair. “You’re safe now. We’re both safe now.”

Relief choked in her throat. She lunged at him, folding her arms around his shoulders and bringing him down for a kiss. Their first kiss after months of danger and loneliness. Their first kiss ever. She felt herself swoon—he was strong, warm and safe. Then his lips left hers.

“I have this tear in my cloak.” He showed her.

“I can fix that.”


End file.
